Painted in Red
by anvantastic
Summary: Ten/Rose. She deserves the best, but all she wants is him.


Title: Painted in Red

Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose

Rating: K

Disclaimer: I, sadly, don't own anything.

Spoilers: None

Summary: She deserves the best, but all she wants is him.

A/N: It's the first fanfic I've completed - I hope you enjoy it!

He could take her anywhere in the world – anywhere in the universe - in fact. He offers to take her to planets known for their lavish balls and exquisite meals and those with the most beautiful sunsets ever recorded – golden-red rays of light beaming down, rendering everything in the finest gold hue imaginable while multiple moons awaken from their slumber, shining down on the silent crystal-blue seas in a magnificent whirlwind of colors. Instead, she opts for a remote, nearly decrepit dock with the smell of ocean salt and mystery floating wild in the air because she loved the extra bit of sparkle in his eyes when he briefly mentioned the spot in one of those slightly-mad ramblings he is wont to perform while his ever-clever mind calculates the best way to get them out of a particularly compromising endeavor.

He offers to buy her elegant clothes and elaborate jewels, but on this outing all she asks for is red and white paint – the eco-friendly type that washes away with the rain, as her humanity would never allow her to harm a living thing with the toxins in normal lead-based paints.

He smiles his pulse-rising grin while he asks what exactly she is up to, but today she's determined not to tell, at least not for now. She reluctantly pulls from his encompassing, protective embrace and send him on a quest for a long-time favorite of theirs, fish and chips. Puzzled by this manner but still eager to oblige her simple request, he scampers off, determined to find the best for her.

Once he is satisfied with one certain venue, after a good half-hour of his ruthless inspection, he rushes back to the spot where he left her, a gentle slope with rocks cascading into the foamy water, making sure not to drop a single perfectly golden chip.

She's not there when he first reaches the rocks, but he is able to sense she's out of harms way, most likely using the toilet. However, he is nearly stunned into oblivion, or at least into nearly dropping the baskets of food he so carefully had been carrying, when he sees the mark she left behind.

The food is set down on a stable set of rocks that could double as a seat as he whips out his glasses and squats down to get a better look that the words. A quick scan with the sonic screwdriver, as well as the almost empty cans of eco-friendly paint lying nearby, confirms the fact that she really did write the message. He stands there, looking at it, still pondering and completely lost in thought that he doesn't hear her creep up behind him and is startled when she pulls him into a hug of her own.

Abruptly, he turns around, brandishing his sonic screwdriver, poking her and scanning her to make sure some creature didn't perform a mind swap with her brilliant little brain, but the results are negative – no one is in her brain but herself.

He stands there, still in her embrace, utterly perplexed, and she laughs, wonderful chords that carry in the salty breeze.

"Only you would over analyze something that simple," she shakes her head in amusement.

"S-so, you mean it then. You –" he trails off, unable to finish, just in case his overly brilliant mind somehow misinterpreted this.

She laughs once more, and his heart sinks as his face blushes with total humiliation at the scene. He slowly disentangles himself from her arms.

"I guess you'd be wanting to go home now, then."

Her laughter stops and her smile drops suddenly, and he mentally slaps himself for making that expression of sadness cross her lovely face.

"Wh-what?" it's now her turn to stutter as he turns away to hide the emotions just waiting to bubble over inside him.

"Well, if you don't mean it, then there's not a point in you wanting to stay, is there?" he answers dejectedly, and she finally sees what's going on.

"Oh, typical," she mutters under her breath, "typical, typical. Geniuses can be so stupid sometimes. I mean it, of course I do. I love you, you gigantic, over-analyzing goofball."

He turns back at her, stunned by this oral revelation, though the written proof spans before him in red.

"Really?"

And it's the way he looks – his hair disheveled from his earlier chips run, now forgotten; his face filled with uncertainty, still convinced a joke was being played on him; his eyes full of hope and want for this to be something real – that causes her to cross the splintered wood and capture his lips in the most tender of kisses in a full-hearted reply. And even though the paint on the rocky slope will be erased with the coming of high tide and the next few rain showers, he knows that she will always love him, making him, once again, feel like she deserves so much more.


End file.
